They drove slowly up the busy road to the main entrance of the hospital. The police Land-Rover, motor-cycles and armoured van were lined up in the public carpark beyond the entrance to the outpatients section. The warders had doffed their riot helmets and were standing around the vehicles in relaxed attitudes.
'How will Abrahamji keep him there until dark?' Molly wanted to know.
'I did not ask,' Raleigh replied. 'I expect he will keep on demanding further tests, or will deliberately sabotage the machinery - I don't know.' Raleigh turned the car in a circle in front of the main entrance and they drove back down the hill.
'You are sure there is no other way to leave the hospital grounds?' Raleigh asked.
'Quite sure,' Molly replied. 'The van must pass here. Drop me at the bus stop. It will be a long wait and at least I will have a bench to sit on.' Raleigh pulled into the kerb. 'You have the number of the telephone on the dock, and coins?' She nodded.
'Where is your nearest telephone from here?' he insisted.
'I have checked it all carefully. There is a public phone booth at the corner.' She pointed. 'It will take two minutes for me to reach it, and if it is out of order or occupied, there is another telephone in the car across the street. I have already made friends with the proprietor.' R-tleigh left her at the bus stop and drove back to the centre of town. He left Molly's car in the side street they had agreed upon so that it would not be found at the docks or anywhere in the vicinity and he walked back down the Heerengracht showing his seaman's papers at the gate.
The skipper of the trawler was in the wheelhouse and he handed Raleigh a mug of heavily sweetened coffee which he sipped as they went over the final arrangements.
'Are my men ready?' Raleigh asked as he stood up, and the skipper shrugged. 'That is your business, not mine.' They were in the bottom of the trawler's deep hold where the heat in the unventilated space was oppressive. Robert and Changi were stripped to vests and jogging shorts. They jumped up as Raleigh came down the ladder.
'So far it goes well,' Raleigh assured them. They were old companions from the PAC Poqo days, and Changi had been at Sharpeville on the terrible day that Amelia died. 'Are you ready?' Raleigh asked him.
'We can check,' Changi suggested. 'Once more will not hurt us.' The inflatable Zodiac boat that stood on the floor of the hold was the 17-foot 6-inch model that could carry ten adults with ease. The fifty-horsepower Evinrude outboard motor could push it at thirty knots.
The cover of the engine had been painted matt black.
The rig had been stolen by Robert and Changi working together from the yard of a boat dealer two days before, and could not be traced back to any of them.
'The engine?' Raleigh demanded.
'Robert has checked and serviced it.' 'I even changed the gear-box oil,' Robert agreed. 'She runs beauti fully.' 'Tanks?' 'Both full,' Robert said. 'We have a range of a hundred miles o better.' 'Wet suits?' 'Check,' Changi said. 'And thermal blankets for the leader.' 'Tools?' Raleigh asked, and Changi opened the padded flotatioz bag and laid out the tools on the deck, checking each as Raleigt called them from his list.
'Good,' Raleigh agreed at last. 'You can rest now. Nothing mar to do.' Raleigh climbed up out of the hold. It was still too early. H glanced at his wristwatch. Not yet four o'clock, but he left the trawleJ and went down the dock to the public telephone booth at the end.
He telephoned directory enquiries and asked for a fictitious number in Johannesburg, just to make certain the line was in order.
Then he sat on the edge of the wharf with his legs dangling and watched the seagulls squabbling over the offal and refuse that floated on the harbour waters.
It was fully dark by seven-forty but it was another twenty minutes before the telephone in the booth rang and Raleigh jumped up.
'They are on their way.' Molly's voice was soft and muffled.
'Thank you, comrade,' Raleigh said. 'Go home now.' He hurried back down the wharf and the trawler skipper had seen him coming. As Raleigh jumped down on to the dock the two deckhands threw off the lines. The big caterpillar motor blustered and the trawler surged away from the dock and headed out through the entrance.
Raleigh swarmed down into the hold where Robert and Changi were already in their wet suits.' They had Raleigh's suit laid out for him and they helped him into it.
'Ready?' one of the deckhands called down from above.
'Send it down,' Raleigh shouted back, and they watched the arm of the derrick swing out over the hold, silhouetted against the stars, and the line came down from the boom.
The three of them worked swiftly, hooking the Zodiac on, but before they had finished, the beat of the trawler's engine died away and the motion of the hull in the water changed as the vessel's way died and she began to drift.
Raleigh led them up the ladder on to the deck. The night was moonless, but the stars were bright and clear. The light breeze was from the south-east, so there was unlikely to be a change in this fair weather. All the trawler's navigational lights and the lights in the wheelhouse were extinguished.
Cape Town was ablaze with lights. The mountain was floodlit, a great ghostly silver hulk under the stars, while behind them the lights on Robben Island twinkled low on the black sea. Raleigh judged that they were about half- way between the city and the island.
The skipper was waiting for him on deck.
'We must move fast now,' he said.
Robert and Changi climbed into the Zodiac. Their wet suits were black, the rubber sides of the boat were black and the engine cover of the Evinrude was black. They would be almost invisible on the black waters.
